


You Don't Have To Question It (I Already Know The Answer)

by starlightsuga (bedroomdemos)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Yamaguchi Tadashi, M/M, New Year's Kiss, bisexual kuroo tetsurou, kurotsukki - Freeform, rated t for swearing and explicit butt touching, yamayachi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedroomdemos/pseuds/starlightsuga
Summary: Out of all the things on Tsukishima's list of new year's resolutions, coming to terms with his crush on Kuroo Tetsurou was not supposed to be one of them.(Alternatively titled: Get Your Graphic T-shirt Away From Me)





	You Don't Have To Question It (I Already Know The Answer)

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I have no idea how to refer to anime characters in a normal setting so I use nicknames and first names and last names pls don't hurt me for it Thx
> 
> So....to think my first published Hq!! fic ISN'T daisuga hurts my heart... but anyways this was originally inspired by (1) my friend's New Year's Eve experience and (2) an OTP idea i had that probably wouldn't work in real life but I'm gonna make it work in this fic. I barely had any feelings for tsun crow Tsukki but writing this gave me emotions about him to the point where I cried over him during S3 so I hope you guys enjoy this!!

Tsukishima Kei scrolls through his texts one last time to confirm he has the right address.

 

**From: Owl Face (8:32pm)**

> once u get to the intersection, just make a left, a right two streets later, a left, and then a right

> it has a silver car and a red car in front of it. u cant miss it!!!

 

He returns his gaze to the house in front of him. There's no way this tiny shack—no, literally, all the houses in this neighbourhood are so big that this one has a separate house number for its garage—is where the party's held. He had followed Bokuto's directions to a T, so how he ended up in front of a _literal shack_ , he isn't sure. Rather than retracing his steps, he decides to call Bokuto and save himself the trouble.

He picks up on the sixth ring. Words almost completely slurring together, Tsukki hears a hum of "Aheeelloooo?"

Tsukki stares blankly at the garage. “It's only ten and you're already shitfaced.”

“Whatd’you expect, my brother?" A laugh bubbles up from Bokuto's throat. “Anyways, let's be real. You’ll be like me soon enough. Are you here?”

“Not exactly? I'm staring at a garage. Two cars, the right address…” 

“Ahhh, I forgot to tell you—” Before he has the chance to finish his thought, the line goes (somewhat) silent and he hears voices from behind him instead of through the phone.

“ _Tsukkiiiiii–_ ow, you _idiot_ —”

Tsukishima turns around to stare at the house directly across the street from where he's standing. He sees the outline of Bokuto's dark frame and absurd hairstyle from the light of the doorway. If he squints, he can make out half of Akaashi Keiji's outline next to him, obscured by the door frame. To think that he can hear the two boys bickering from so far away makes him wonder about how they are around each other when they're…drunker. He leaves them to their arguing but ends the call, jogging over to the front door.

“So,” Tsukki says in lieu of cutting the argument off before Akaashi could punch Bokuto in the face, “this is your place?"

“You got it.” Bokuto regains what little composure he has left and crosses his arms over his puffed-out chest. He's too proud for his own good, Tsukki thinks. “It's probably the best place to spend New Year's Eve, don't you think?”

“I mean, I won't deny it.” Tsukki slips out of his Timberlands, following Bokuto down to the basement. Akaashi asks him how he's been enjoying first year and the residence life, and Tsukki is only half aware of his responses; if one isn't in awe at how spotless Bokuto's house is, he doesn't know what would impress them. He wonders if the basement looks as fragile as the rest of the place.

The basement isn’t as shiny and minimalistic as the rest of the house, but it has the atmosphere of a dimly lit, underground pub: there’s a fully stocked bar to the left, illuminated by string lights and a flickering _OPEN_ neon sign, a giant television screen mounted on the far wall (with a karaoke set), a dark, L-shaped leather couch, and a ping pong table discreetly off to the side. It’s like a high school volleyball reunion with all the students from different schools, along with a few new faces, but for the most part Tsukki knows everyone at the party to some extent. He can tell Hinata Shoyou hasn’t changed one bit, singing his heart out to some overplayed anime opening.

Bokuto makes his way over to the bar. Tsukki follows; Akaashi lets out a small sigh. “You’ve never seen Kou like this before, have you?”

“Ah… No.” Owl Face slams his hip into the side of the bar. He lets out a string of curses, using his hand as a guide to make his way behind it. “But,” Tsukki adds, “I think I’m going to like what I see.”

The smirk on Akaashi’s face tells him the older boy is happy with his answer. He leaves his side to attend to Bokuto, but Tsukki follows because (1) this is his first university party, (2) he isn’t big on drinking, last he checked, and (3) parties in general are _completely_ out of his element. Tsukki takes a seat at one of the high stools under the bar, thoroughly amused at watching Akaashi force Bokuto back around the bar and into a seat beside him. Akaashi slides a red cup towards him; the liquid inside looks and smells like orange juice, but when he tastes it for the first time, it’s subtly spiked with alcohol. “Koutarou,” he says in his usual monotonous tone, “I’ll make you a drink, okay?”

“I don’t trust you,” Bokuto says. He leans over the counter, his weight placed on his elbow. He raises an eyebrow. Tsukki is pretty sure the eyebrow is supposed to be suggestive, but he ignores it and downs more of his drink instead. “You never make them strong enough. How ‘bout you just make me come instead?”

Tsukki chokes on his drink—the aftertaste of the alcohol is suddenly much more prominent than he thought. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and watches Akaashi carefully; his flush goes from the base of his neck to the tip of his ears, noticeable even by the dim lights of the basement. To save him from any more embarrassment, Tsukki turns himself around on his stool, his elbow resting on the counter, and takes a mental count of everyone within his line of vision. Yachi Hitoka is now at Hinata’s side, the karaoke machine coughing out the instrumentals of a duet; Kageyama and Tanaka are mid-match by the ping pong table, with Nishinoya cheering the latter on; Lev is animatedly speaking to Yaku, leaning against the wall at a precarious angle (probably to make Yaku feel less short).

He waits a short period of time before turning to look at Akaashi again. “Do you know if anyone else is coming?”

“Some people are stuck in traffic,” the older boy offers, having regained his composure. He drinks from his own red cup. “Sawamura and Sugawara have their own plans tonight, though. I think they’re the only ones that couldn’t make it.” He jerks his head in the direction of the stairs. “There are also some people out in the backyard. You can go there if you want.” He pauses. “Or, y’know, if you know how to get there on your own.”

Tsukki cracks a small smile. Let it be known that Akaashi Keiji is one of the only people in the world that can make him smile during a normal conversation. “Thanks. I think I’ll stay here for a little longer th– _ouf_ —”

He’s cut off by the force of a palm five-starring his back. When Tsukishima prepares to glower at whoever had the audacity, his face immediately softens at the gaze of Yamaguchi Tadashi. “Tsukki! You’re actually here?”

“Surprisingly.”

“You know,” he starts, breaking their gaze, “I didn’t think you were going to come when Bokuto messaged you. It was so last minute, especially with you always working towards the next big test or assignment.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Yamaguchi. I thought I could use at least one break.” He chugs the rest of his drink and slides the empty cup over to Akaashi with a little nod of acknowledgement. “So…” he continues, turning to look back at the freckled boy. “How have you been?”

Yamaguchi shrugs. His smile stretches across his face, and Tsukki can’t help the small twist he feels in his chest. “You’re the one with the heavy workload. I’m just coasting right now, so things are good. Hey, Akaashi…” He leans over Tsukki to talk to the older boy, asking about a drink, and Tsukki can’t help getting slightly flustered over the movement. His mind flashes back to Karasuno’s graduation day.

To put it simply, Yamaguchi Tadashi had confessed two things to Tsukishima after their grad rehearsal the day before: the first was that he was bisexual, and the second was about the crush he had had on Tsukki for the entirety of high school. He had felt awkward turning Tsukki down, but he had waved off the rejection. His justification was that he already knew Tsukki didn’t like him back and he just wanted to get his feelings out, that way he could work towards moving on.

And almost nothing changed between the two of them— _almost._ They barely saw each other over the summer; every time Tsukki texted Yamaguchi about hanging out, the latter would say he was busy or already made plans. They both attend Tokyo University, but with Yamaguchi preparing to major in mathematics and Tsukishima in the midst of a general first year… seeing each other even on campus was no easy feat.

Tsukki misses Yamaguchi.

“Hey.” The freckled boy nudges him lightly in the ribs. Tsukki made a noise to acknowledge that he was listening. “I know I haven’t really updated you—and I’m sorry about that, by the way; we should hang out sometime—but you know how New Year’s kisses are this big thing?”

Tsukki blinks. “I mean, I guess so?”

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. “What do you think if I asked Yachi?” They both look over at the karaoke set. She and Hinata are still singing duets, but now that Kei is actually focusing on them, he notices that she’s surprisingly on-key.

“I think you’d be stupid if you didn’t,” Tsukishima says, placing the palm of his hand square between Yamaguchi’s shoulder blades. He might be wrong because of the off lighting, but he’s pretty sure he sees the boy’s freckles blend gracefully with his flushed cheeks. He feels Akaashi hand him Yamaguchi’s now-filled cup, which Tsukki passes on with ease. Yamaguchi takes it with lively fervour, downing the entire cup—to which Bokuto cheers him on, because _apparently_  Akaashi gave him some strong stuff—and marches off with clenched fists and a newfound determination towards the karaoke set. Tsukki watches with slight amusement; he waits on the side for the last bit of the song to finish up, but the second he opens his mouth to catch Yachi’s attention, she uppercuts him with the mic, producing an unnecessary amount of feedback.

_This is it,_ Tsukki thinks, _Tadashi’s officially in a Rom-Com._ He pushes himself off the bar stool and leans against the banister by the stairs, still debating whether to stay in the basement and mingle or find the guys outside and say hi.

He doesn’t have time to make a decision though. A hulking shadow appears behind him, and without warning this giant mound of _human_ practically jumps on his back. He still doesn’t understand what it is about people at parties and surprise greetings, but so far he doesn’t like it.

“Tsukishima Kei,” the voice bellows (and with his vision obscured he has no idea who it belongs to), “is that really you? At a _party_?” A set of arms turns Tsukishima around to engulf him in a bear hug. Despite the lack of oxygen, he bends his wrist an an awkward angle, patting the stranger on the back.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He pauses, still patting. When the iron grip doesn’t lighten up, he adds, “Who are you?”

He hears the click of a disapproving tongue by his ear before the guy laughs. He finally lets Tsukki go, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders instead. “Are you already so drunk that you don’t remember me?”

Tsukki blinks. He wants to maintain his signature blank expression, he really does, but a small smile threatens to creep onto his face as he gives the boy in front of him a once-over. There it is—the same catlike features and cheshire grin, the permanent morning-after hair, the (failed) attempt at a badass fashion sense.

(No, really, for the love of whoever’s out there, who allowed the overgrown child to wear the perfect leather jacket and the perfect ripped jeans, only to pair it with a t-shirt that reads _Bad Boy_?)

_Although_ , Tsukki admits, _he still works the outfit_. Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud. He goes for the cool, collected approach instead. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Kuroo pouts at the formality of his words, but all Tsukki can think about is how much the older boy drank already. “It’s only been a year and you act as if we’re strangers. That hurts.”  
“To be fair,” Tsukki counters, “we were rivals.”

“That was high school. Why must you wound me like this?”

Tsukki rolls his eyes, but when Kuroo moves to wrap an arm around his shoulders, Tsukki doesn’t shrug him off. He breaks the ice around Tsukki’s not-so-party persona a little more by asking how first year is going, but after downing a second mixed drink and his first shot _ever_ , Tsukki thinks the night is smooth sailing from there on out.

 

 

 

The rest of the night pans out well for Tsukishima. He remains as the astute wallflower, observing other partygoers as they do their thing, and it all begins when he watches Nishinoya almost take Asahi to the ground because _he_ had claimed the red ping pong ball as _his_ hours ago. Dateko and Nekoma sing a collective duet or two while sharing only one microphone per team. He even has the honour of watching attempts as flirting, from Kageyama failing with Hinata to Yamaguchi’s successful quips with Yachi.

( _Okay, but who even says ‘partygoers’ anymore?_ Kuroo had asked when Tsukki explained why he has never enjoyed the crowded atmosphere of a party. His response had been to whack Kuroo’s arm.)

Tsukki is surprised that, when he tells Kuroo he would rather just sit and talk with one person instead of move about, the older boy complies, sitting on a bar stool and pulling out another one for him. “Alright, Glasses.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

And so the bar’s clock inches towards 11pm, they finish their drinks faster than they realize, and Tsukki is probably more drunk than he initially thought (mostly because he finds himself smiling at Kuroo a lot more than he should). Their topics range from the large discussions, like the pros and cons of warehouse labour on a global scale, to the small arguments, prompted by Tsukki’s unfiltered comment on how Kuroo’s t-shirt makes him look like a Forever 21-grade douchebag.

Let it be known that Tsukishima Kei _hates_ Forever 21.

 

 

 

Ten minutes to midnight finds Tsukki _way_ too invested in his second round of beer pong. The first had been him and Kuroo against Lev and Yaku (the Karasuno and Nekoma alumni watched them intently from the sidelines; Fukurodani was in the midst of killing the karaoke machine). After a seventh unsolicited insult about the _Bad Boy_ shirt, Kuroo had teamed up with Kenma Kozume, declaring to drive Tsukki and his supposed-new-best-friend Kageyama Tobio six feet under.

When Kageyama lands the ping pong ball in a red cup for the third time in a row, he lets out a victory shout and raises his hand for a high five. Tsukki leaves him hanging, his eyebrows furrowed and the slightest smirk playing on his lips. “When did you get so…chill?” 

“Oh fuck _off,_ Tsukishima.” He drops his hand. For once, though, Tsukki notices there’s no malice in Kageyama’s voice. The boy is drunk beyond belief, his malicious smile stretching from ear to ear. “Just be happy we’re winning because of me. I’m doing all the work here—all you have to do is stand there and look pretty.”

On their next two turns, it’s Tsukki that sinks both balls first. Rather than take back his words, the hothead turns to complain to Hinata—loudly—about how the game is rigged somehow. Tsukki actually has to _yell_ to remind him _we’re on the same team, it doesn’t matter you goddamn imbecile—_

(Once Tobio calms down, he and Tsukki win that round of beer pong with flying colours—not that anyone is surprised—and Kenma goes redfaced at the thought of having to take a body shot off of Kuroo as punishment.)

 

 

 

It’s two minutes to midnight when Tsukishima’s leaning against the wall by the karaoke machine, a fresh (but almost finished) drink in his hand, thoroughly disgusted with all the couples around him. He can feel the plethora of soon-to-be kisses in the air, everyone paired off somehow, ready to spring a move when the giant countdown clock on the flatscreen hits zero.

“I’ll be honest—” Tsukki jumps a little at the sudden voice beside him. When he sees it’s Kuroo, leaning against the wall with all his weight on one forearm, he regains his composure. “—you look like you’re having a shit time.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I know it’s a lie because you actually beat me in beer pong. On your _first time_.” He looks around, following Tsukki’s gaze. Kageyama has Hinata pushed up against the wall, his frame bent close to whisper something in the shorter boy’s ear. Yamaguchi, blushing beet red at the opportunity to even _sit_ next to Yachi Hitoka, who, to be fair, is equally as red. Both their gazes flick over to Akaashi with a pained expression, his lower half obscured by the bar, but neither of them says anything; it doesn’t take long to guess where Bokuto is. “But you seem a little off right now.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. He directs his attention back to the countdown, now at 1:25, and tries not to think about how he’s going to ring in the new year without a kiss of his own. No, he’ll have the opportunity to watch everyone around him scarf their tongues down each other’s throats, and it irritates him how he doesn’t want that. 

(Granted, he’s happy for everyone around him, but he just feels bad for himself. Great.)

Tsukki finishes the rest of his drink. He leaves the empty cup on the coffee table a few feet away, but when he goes back to his position on the wall, something feels different. Clearly Kuroo had caught onto Tsukki’s train of thought without a word because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is “You have a nice ass.”

Tsukki feels an unwarranted warmth creeping up his neck. So maybe the alcohol made him more bitter about being single, and _maybe_ he had a little more than he should have had, and maybe, just maybe, Kuroo’s words are enough of a push to make Tsukki bold enough to retaliate with: “Why haven’t you grabbed it yet?”

He still isn’t making eye contact with the older boy, but the feeling of his right hand cupping one of his cheeks is enough. Kuroo shifts closer to him, his free arm now hanging off Tsukki’s shoulder. “You know,” he whispers, dangerously close to Tsukki’s ear, “just because this is Bokuto’s place doesn’t mean we can’t steal a room for a little while.”

Tsukki coughs nervously. “You—I’d rather, uh—maybe another—”

Kuroo takes his chin off his shoulder. “You c _ould_ just say no.”

“Then no.” There’s thirty seconds left on the countdown. He finally looks at Kuroo (who, for someone drunk off his ass, still looks undeniably attractive with sex hair Tsukki wants to be merciless with and a sly smile that would probably look better saying his name in bed). “But…thank you?”

The slyness turns into a candy grin that makes Tsukishima’s stomach do a backflip. Kuroo doesn’t say anything, but Tsukki can make out his eyes looking him over. There’s a chorus of voices counting down from fifteen seconds around them. Before Tsukki even has a moment to think about what may or may not happen, the hand that was on Tsukki’s shoulder is now around his neck and pulling him in.

Kuroo Tetsurou, to Tsukishima’s liking, tastes like soju and salt-and-vinegar chips. His eyes are shocked wide at the sudden contact, but his mind just sort of shouts _fuck it and kiss him back, you idiot_ so that is exactly what he does. His ass gets another firm squeeze, making Tsukki buck his hips forward, right into Kuroo’s crotch (and, dear _god,_ his hard-on) but then his hand trails back up and under his t-shirt, pulling Tsukki into him entirely.

As much as he’s enjoying this, Tsukki is in a state of internal panic because he has _no idea_ what to do with his hands. One is currently on the other boys chest, as if pushing him away (even though he feels like doing quite the opposite), but he lets himself imitate Kuroo’s action. Tsukki snakes his hand under the stupid _Bad Boy_ shirt that is, in fact, from Forever 21, and he feels Kuroo smile against his lips. When Tsukki finds himself smiling too, Kuroo slips his tongue between Tsukki’s teeth and, suddenly, they’re not just making out—this kiss has turned into a battle that Tsukishima Kei is determined to win.

(This is not the mentality he is supposed to have when he kisses someone. He knows this, and he hates the whole battling-for-dominance thing. But that doesn’t stop him.)

He doesn’t know how aware Kuroo is in all of this, but Tsukki doesn’t even realize when the countdown ends and seconds pass and there’s cheering all around them. Tsukki is the first to pull back, his brows furrowed as he tries to read Kuroo’s face through his skewed glasses. He’s too dazed to fix them, but he doesn’t miss the smirk right before there’s a light, final peck on his lips, and then the warmth from Kuroo’s body is gone. “You know, you’re a pretty good kisser.”

Tsukishima blinks. He does’t know how to react, but the last thing he wants to do in this moment is tell Kuroo that he was his first kiss, drunk on New Year’s. Instead, he bothers to look over to the couch, where Yachi sits with mussed blonde hair. Yamaguchi’s arm is around her; while she stares off into space, he finds Tsukki’s eyes and shoots him a thumbs up.

“Hey.” Kuroo punches Tsukki’s arm lightly. “So this is your first year. This means I’ll see you around, right?”

Tsukki doesn’t know what happened to his composure over the course of the night. In a way, he blames the alcohol and his slow-reacting system. In another way, he also blames Kuroo Tetsurou for making an appearance _at all_ because no one allowed him to suddenly become attractive and easy to talk to—at least, easier than he remembers. In lieu of his drunken actions, Tsukki takes a step closer to Kuroo, runs his thumb across the boy’s bottom lip (and _oh_ , how Tsukki would like to kiss them again) and, in the calmest voice he can muster, responds as lightly as possible. “Maybe.”

Kuroo, unfazed by the lip touching, raises an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

Tsukki doesn’t say anything else. He leaves the basement with the knowledge that Kuroo’s eyes are on him. Without another word to anyone else at Bokuto’s, he grabs his jacket off the upstairs sofa, slips on his Timberlands, and leaves the house.

It’s a good think Bokuto doesn’t live too far from Tsukki’s residence, because he needs to go home and thing about what just happened before he passes out. (At least he can say, to the lack of people around him, that his cheeks are red from the cold rather than from… whatever just went on with Kuroo.)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave kudos, comment, and subscribe to me if you like my works!! Getting feedback means a lot ♡ 
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/twinleafs) | [ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/developments)


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